


AOA Vol 4: The Dæmon’s Crucible

by Th3Alchemist



Series: An Opus Alchymicum [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Book 1: Northern Lights | The Golden Compass, Book 2: The Subtle Knife, Book 3: The Amber Spyglass, Book: La Belle Sauvage, Book: The Golden Compass, Book: The Secret Commonwealth, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daemon Feels, Daemon Separation, Daemon Touching, Daemons, Dust (His Dark Materials), F/M, Harry Potter/HDM Crossover, His Dark Materials Inspired, Lyra's World (His Dark Materials), Monster Dust (Undertale), Post-His Dark Materials, The Book of Dust Spoilers, Will's World (His Dark Materials)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Th3Alchemist/pseuds/Th3Alchemist
Summary: Third Year dawns. As Voldemort and the Magisterium move to take total control of Dust, Dæmons and Magic, a mass-murderer from Neville's past is sent to kill Lyra, Dementors arrive to guard Hogwarts, and Harry & Hermione face a perilous journey from world to world, to save Sirius and Baby Seren from certain death, and to thwart yet another threat to their incredible destiny.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Lyra Belacqua
Series: An Opus Alchymicum [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818550
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. A Stag and A Unicorn

****

* * *

**Author Note:** So after some early criticism of this Volume I have decided to revise it and take it at a slightly different angle. Let it never be said that I don't listen to feedback and review my mistakes. I am only human, and I occasionally err in my judgement. So I have tweaked Hermione's early arc in this instalment, as this drew the most negativity, though there is nothing I can do about my 'plodding plotting' I'm afraid. I'm sorry, but this is just how I write. If you are impatient for immediate resolution and payoff, read something else folks. But if you want to read this fic, scroll down to AOA 4, Version 2!

Peace!

* * *

At a flat in Central London, in the only room whose window faced out across the ever-flowing waters of the Thames, a young boy was staring, fixated, at the clock on his bedside table. The face and dials were in the traditional shape of the standard roundels of the London Underground, but instead of a red circle and blue line - to represent the Tube and Thames respectively - the whole thing was resplendent in gold and silver, recalling the colours of the unique _Merlin Line,_ the very secretive route of the world's oldest subterranean transit system.

This detail was significant, as this particular Tube line only served the hidden Magical communities of London and outlying areas... and the boy in question was, himself, a _wizard_.

And Harry Potter was an impatient young wizard at that. The clock hands seemed to be stuck on 11.59 ... and Harry was quite sure it at been 11.59 for at least twelve minutes now. And the reasons for his impatience were taunting him from the shadows just behind his clock, and currently held under close guard by his beautiful snowy owl, Hedwig.

"Can I open them _now_?" Harry asked again, nodding towards the stack of birthday presents neatly wrapped in purple paper with gold bows on them, that Hedwig was merrily using as a makeshift perch.

Hedwig barked the negative. Harry just frowned at her.

"You only have to wait one more minute," Marici, Harry's golden lioness dæmon, told him. "Be patient, or open the gift from Hagrid if you really cant wait that long."

"I wonder what it is," Harry mused, picking up the heavy square gift that Hagrid had wrapped in thick brown parchment. "It weighs a ton."

Harry idly pulled back the wrapping to reveal the title of a rather bizarre book. It had an unusual cover, one that was made of thick felt or fur, and at the top of the spine of the book was an insignia of sorts, which looked curiously like a beady little eye.

" _The Monster Book of Monsters_ ," Harry read. "It's a thoughtful gift, Hagrid, but why would you ... oh wait, there's a note."

Harry picked it up and read.

" _Happy birthday, Harry. I hope you like your_ _prezzie_ _. It will come in handy next year_ _._ _C_ _ant say no more just now, but it's gonna be a fun one._

_Have a great day,_

_Hagrid_

_P._ _s. just tickle the spine to calm it down._

Harry scrunched his brow in confusion. "What do you think that means, Chi ... _to calm it down?_ To calm what down?"

"I don't know, Harry," Marici replied in her rolling, purr-like voice. "He can't mean the book, can he?"

"I doubt it," Harry shrugged, lazily flicking open the heavy clasp on the cover ...

... and immediately unleashing mayhem on his bedroom.

The _Monster_ book literally _became_ a monster. Its page edges sharpened to nippy little teeth, which snapped furiously at Harry's fingers where he tried to turn them. Then the book snarled angrily at Harry, before flipping onto its side and scuttling away like a giant furry insect. It knocked over Harry's clock, trampled on the full-scale, matchstick model of Hogwarts that he had been working on all Summer, and ate one of his smelly socks, where Harry's aim for the linen basket had been wayward that morning.

It quickly regurgitated that disgusting bit of prey before it made it sick.

It was only when the book made for Hermione's unopened presents, which were still being presided over by Hedwig, that Marici sprang to life, leaping from up on the bed and trapping the book under her powerful paws. It was useful that she was such a big animal, herself, for the _Monster_ book was proving to be quite the violent adversary.

"What the hell is that thing!" Harry shrieked, darting to Marici to help in her struggles. "Why would Hagrid send me something like that!?"

"He probably thinks you'd find it funny," Marici puffed out sharply, struggling to keep the _Monster_ book restrained. "He has a penchant for things that bite and snarl and breathe fire ... this is probably his idea of fun!"

"Well it isn't mine!" Harry scowled, crossly. "What are we going to do with it?"

"Grab one of your belts, tie it around the jaws," Marici advised.

"Good idea," Harry agreed.

He jumped up from the fight and grabbed the belt from his jeans, quickly fastening the leather strap around the book with immense difficulty. It snapped and squirmed to get free, but seemed to lose the will to resist once it was secured. Harry sat back, out of breath from the struggle, and simply entered into an angry staring contest with the eye on the spine of the book.

"Remind me to tell Hagrid not to buy me any more birthday presents!" Harry fumed, breathlessly.

Then there was a little _ping_ from on his bedside table.

Harry reached up for his mobile phone and opened the message. It was from Hermione ... Harry hadn't expected her to be up this late ... but her message turned him cold.

_"Harry! Help me! I'm in danger and I don't know what to do!"_

Harry's heart went into overdrive. He typed back quickly. "What is it? What's happening?"

_"I'm under attack!"_

"By who?" Harry typed, frantically. "Who's attacking you?"

 _"A book! One that Hagrid sent me._ _I opened it an hour ago ..._ _and it's been trying_ _to EAT ME_ _ever since_ _! Please, you have to do something!"_

Harry did do something ... he laughed his head off for fully thirty seconds as he tried to compose himself enough to reply.

"Where are you?"

 _"I'm on top of my wardrobe! It's the only place it cant get me!_ _Pap just came in from a night-time wander and managed to get my phone to me._ _Harry, I'm frightened. Please help!_ "

"I've been a bit busy myself," Harry typed. "Look!"

He then took a photo of his own, subdued _Monster_ book and sent it to Hermione.

" _So you got one too?_ _That's strange._ _How did you beat it?"_

"Marici stomped on it and then I shut it up tight with my belt!"

" _Well that's just typical. My Pap is a coward. He's up here_ _trembling with me_ _on the wardrobe, so I need a new plan. Any suggestions?"_

"Can't Lyra help?"

_"Um ... she and Sirius are 'busy'. They always 'get busy' once they think I'm asleep. That's why I opened the book ... I wanted something to distract me until they shut up! Lyra squeals a lot, God knows why, but can you imagine trying to talk to her about THAT! I think I'd die, wouldn't you? I wouldn't be able to look her in the face for a whole year! But I might die on this wardrobe if we can't think of something to get me down. Come on, Harry, I need you to be my hero now!"_

Harry thought for a moment, then he spotted Hagrid's note ... _tickle the spine ..._ hmmm, could it be that easy?

Harry scooted over to his own copy of the book and stroked a finger along the length of the furry spine. The book fell instantly still, but Harry didn't feel brave enough to unbuckle his belt from around the cover. He picked his phone up again.

"Hagrid said that all you need to do is stroke the spine and it goes docile," he wrote. "I just tried it with mine and it worked. You or Pap are just going to have to show a bit of courage if you want to get down from the wardrobe tonight!"

_"I'm not sure I have that sort of courage, Harry!"_

"Of course you do. Are you a Gryffindor witch or not?"

 _"_ _Yes, you're quite right ..._ _I_ _AM_ _. Right, here goes. If you don't hear back from me in three minutes, you know the book_ _has_ _managed to eat me. In that case, it was nice knowing you, Harry Potter! Wish me luck!"_

Harry chuckled as he read the message, then his eyes fell on his clock, which had come to an askewed sort of rest against the skirting board beneath the window. He looked at it in surprised understanding ... for it now read 12.07 am. He'd been a teenager for seven whole minutes and he hadn't even known it!

"Well, I don't feel any different," Harry pondered aloud, as he poked his arms and face to see if anything had changed yet. "Do I look different, Hedwig?"

The owl turned her large amber eyes on him inscrutably, before hopping onto his shoulder to nip affectionately at his ear. Then she soared off out of the open window to go and hunt for some vermin on the banks of the Thames.

"Happy birthday to you, too!" Harry chuckled as he watched her fly away.

"I suppose that means you can finally open Hermione's presents though," Marici pointed out to him.

"Oh yeah!" Harry chirped, excitedly. "Let's just hope they aren't as mental as Hagrid's gift! I doubt it, Hermione's too thoughtful for all that. I wonder how she's getting on with the _M_ _onster_ book? I wonder if it's torn her leg off yet. I hope not, I quite like her legs ..."

Harry stopped in mid-sentence and blushed in the darkness of his bedroom. He had been rather shy about having that thought, at the time it had first occurred to him, when he went to visit Hermione in Oxford last week, and the worrying sensation hadn't really left him yet. Sirius and Lyra, the sickly sweet newly-weds, had decided to take them on a canal boat trip for the day, and Harry had been quite looking forward to it.

Lyra had spent much of the time comparing the Oxford here to the Oxford in her world, pointing out a ruined church that looked almost the same as a nun's priory in her world, which had been destroyed in a great flood, and telling them about the horse-fairs she used to attend at a place called Jericho, spinning them a tale of how she had once almost stolen a narrowboat from some Gyptians at one of them.

But Harry had barely heard a word of it. For at about the time that they were passing the ruined church, Hermione had laughed at something that Lyra had commented on, and at the exact same instant a glint of sunlight had reflected in her chestnut eyes from the blue canal water below. The combined effect mesmerised Harry as he absently caught sight of it, quite unprepared for what it was about to do to him.

For he found himself _staring_ , blatantly and unashamedly, at Hermione's face in that moment ... a moment which seemed to hang around for much longer than it should have. For Hermione looked so pretty in that second that Harry found her couldn't take his eyes off her. It was as if his gaze was stuck in place on her soft skin. And he found himself looking at a different _type_ of pretty than the one he was used to.

Now, Harry knew very well that Hermione was a pretty girl ... she just was. She had subtle, delicate features, warm eyes and a cosy, complex smile that Harry found very pleasant to look at, so he tried to look at it as often as he thought he was allowed. But this new version of ' _pretty Hermione_ ' was different entirely. Harry felt it pass through his mind and body with a cool shiver, one that actually caused his neck and arms to break out in sporadic goosebumps.

He stared hard at Hermione in that stolen moment. The little frown of academic concentration, that lived between her eyebrows during term-time, had vanished; her face looked altogether softer, her mouth was relaxed and her lips fuller as she laughed. There was a sort of lazy enjoyment in her complexion, which was far more fine and silky than he was used to, and there was a tint to her cheeks as if she were hot or blushing in a dream.

Harry had pulled his eyes away, thinking he was doing wrong by staring. But his gaze merely fell lower, onto the pale skin of Hermione's legs where she was languidly stretching them out across the width of the boat to tan herself. Harry found himself moistening his dry lips, as his mind and vision had hitched on Hermione's slim, tense calves, on the textured skin of her knees, and the slight swell of her thighs, just visible beneath the skirt hem of the pretty cotton sundress that she had been wearing. Harry maddeningly wondered what it would feel like to _stroke_ that skin, curious about how soft it might be, for it certainly _looked_ soft ...

But those images were far too troubling altogether to hold steady in his head. He pushed them away firmly with a silent groan in his chest, but his mind was still dwelling on the hypnotic memory of Hermione's face, on the thoughts about what it might be like to smooth it or kiss it. He needed to think about something else, but all he could focus on was trying to work out what had happened to him.

A week later and Harry was still no closer to solving the mystery, and equally concerning was his secret birthday wish that had been born along with it. For he hoped, more than he would ever have the face to admit out loud, that Hermione would be wearing that same dress again when she next came to London to see him ... and that he might get a chance to satiate this insane new yearning to sneak a glance at the silky flesh of her legs again ...

Harry cleared his throat and swatted these unsettling musings aside. Marici knew all about them, too, and seemed to understand them a little better than he did. But Harry was thankful that his dæmon had a care for his modesty, for she had yet to broach the subject with him either subconsciously or in actual speech. Harry was glad about this, as he didn't feel anything like ready to face whatever truth might arise from her sharing this advanced comprehension with him.

So Harry focused on opening Hermione's birthday presents instead, rather than on anything to do with her legs. Perhaps it would be better if the Monster book _did_ eat one of them, Harry considered, thus removing at least half of the source of this peculiar new craving he had for Hermione's longest limbs. But he was out of luck.

_Ping._

_"I did it_ _, Harry_ _! I think you'll be proud of me! Pap distracted the book_ _by shrieking like a baby,_ _and then I jumped down and squished it under my knees -_ Harry tried very hard not to dwell on the dreamy image of Hermione's knees - _and then as soon as I smoothed the spine it became like a normal book! Hagrid has a lot to answer for, honestly! But, now that I'm l_ _ooking through_ _it, it's really quite an interesting book."_

Harry chuckled at that as he typed back. "Well, I'm glad you survived. Wonder why he sent them to us, though?"

 _"I noticed the book is part of next year's required text list. It's the set book for Care of Magical Creatures._ _Maybe he thought he'd give us a head start. He does like wacky beasts, after all._ _"_

"I suppose we'd better take that class then, as a thank you to him!"

" _Y_ _es, I suppose we should._ _Speaking of next year's classes ... have you opened_ _my_ _presents yet?"_

"I'm just about to," Harry typed. "Don't tell me you've bought me a self-cursing wand to practice on for Defence Against the Dark Arts, or something!"

_"Of course I haven't! What sort of best friend do you take me for? Open your gifts. I hope you like them."_

Harry was sure he would. Hermione had the uncanny knack of knowing exactly the sorts of things he would like. He hadn't received a gift from her that he _hadn't_ liked yet. He reached over and grabbed the first of the three presents Hermione had sent him. He unwrapped it carefully, trying not to tear the paper at all, to reveal a very cool moon lamp. It changed colour at the push of a button and even had a setting to show a starry night sky.

"I love the lamp, thank you," Harry typed, immediately.

_"I'm so glad! Did you see the star setting? That's the exact configuration of stars that were in the sky on the night that you were born. You can see the constellation Leo quite clearly if you know where it is. I think it looks a bit like Chi, but Pap wasn't so sure!"_

Harry felt his heart shoot into his throat at that thoughtful attention to detail. A fresh rush of affection for Hermione bloomed anew in his chest, as he delicately unwrapped the next gift, which was a branded _Weird Sisters_ t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase _Sister Legion_ , the moniker given to fans of the super group. Harry loved it, but he had to be delicate with his thanks this time, as the _Weird Sisters_ were a source of both joy and chagrin for he and Hermione, on account of Harry's _last_ birthday, which turned into something of a fiasco.

Hermione's final gift had two parts to it. One was a large, domed glass vessel that was held within a brass fitting, both of which were elaborately decorated with numerous runes and other symbols that Harry didn't recognise. He wasn't sure what it was, but it had a certain esoteric beauty and a subdued sense of power, that was thrumming gently just beneath the surface of Harry's range of magical perception. He turned it reverently in his hands and allowed the sensation to wash over him a moment.

The second part of the gift was a thin sliver of emerald-green crystal. It was flat, rectangular shaped, about twelve inches long, and it, too, was ornately decorated with ancient runes around the edges. Harry had seen one of these before, and he rushed to ask Hermione about her gifts.

 _"The first one is a crucible,"_ she explained. _"And the second is an Emerald Tablet. The crucible is one of the key pieces of equipment used in alchemy, and the Emerald Tablet is the set of instructions that need to be followed during the Opus Alchymicum, to produce a Philosopher's Stone, the Elixir of Life and to be able to turn any base metal into gold. As we were both thinking of studying alchemy next year, I thought these might come in handy."_

"They certainly will ... but they are _really_ expensive! And Emerald Tablets are so rare! You shouldn't have spent so much on me."

_"Hush you. I think you're worth it, and if I want to spend my pocket money on you I will, thank you very much!"_

"No, thank _you_ very much," Harry typed back. "You've really spoiled me. Thank you."

 _"I'm just setting the bar high for when MY birthday comes around in September! So get thinking!_ _By the way, I didn't actually buy the Tablet ... I acquired it, from a source close to you, actually._ _"_

"You did? From who?"

 _"From your Mum, but you'll have to ask her how she got it, because she wouldn't tell me that!"_ Hermione typed back. _"She's a proper alchemist, is Lily ... she likes knowing things that other people don't, like when she wouldn't tell you about being pregnant!"_

Harry laughed at that. "I will definitely get her to tell me about the Tablet when we go out later. It's such a shame you wont be able to be there, but I'll tell you if I find out anything juicy!"

_"Thanks! I just want to say again, about your birthday ... I'm so sorry that I cant be there with you tomorrow, Harry. I had such a great day planned for us, too. But when Sirius came back with the news that the Mandrake Restorative Draught was ready for Mum and Dad, I thought I ought to go and be there when they woke up, in case they suffered damage from the shock. I also need to explain everything, make sure they aren't angry with me. But I am sorry to be missing your birthday."_

"Don't be silly," Harry typed, his disappointment at Hermione's absence warring with his happy grin that she was so rueful at having to go away. "Of course you should go and see your parents. It's only right. But what did you have planned? I'm dead curious now!"

 _"I was thinking about the postage stamp museum, then an hour riding the escalators in Harrods, followed by a salad and a girly movie to finish. How_ _would_ _that_ _have_ _sound_ _ed_ _?"_

"I would have been barely able to contain my excitement!" Harry typed, chuckling as he did so.

" _Well after last year's debacle I decided it would be safer to go a little bit more low-key! I'm only kidding, by the way!_ _I thought we could have_ _start_ _ed_ _off in the History of Quidditch Museum, then grab_ _bed_ _an ice-cream lunch at Florean Fortescue's, then maybe_ _finished up_ _in Muggle London and_ _with_ _a film we_ _BOTH_ _c_ _ould have_ _enjoy_ _ed_ _at the_ _big_ _cinema in Leicester Square_ _._ _"_

"That would have been great, apart from the Quidditch Museum. I know you don't really like the game," Harry replied. "So you wouldn't have enjoyed it."

 _"I don't_ _really_ _dislike_ _Quidditch_ _, either._ _I just get frightened that you'll fall and break your neck or something. You do fly much too quickly, Harry! I'm sure you don't need to go quite so fast._ _But something we both like is History, so I'm sure_ _that_ _the museum_ _will be an interesting place to visit._ _Maybe we can go over the Christmas Holidays or something, because I'm not likely to return from my old world until I go to get the Express back to school."_

Harry felt his heart groan as he read the words. A month not seeing or hearing from Hermione was likely to make this the worst August in his living memory. But he was buoyed by the promise of Christmas.

"Would you mind doing that, if we did? I think I'd quite like to go, if you really wouldn't mind."

 _"Of course we can_ _. I'll_ _be_ _happy enough, so long as I'm allowed to come along with you."_

Harry's heart fluttered again. He hoped he wasn't having a heart attack. "Okay, that sounds great. As a bribe, _you_ can pick the film we watch after it."

 _"And if I choose a_ _Christmassy,_ _girly movie?"_

Harry held his hand over his phone screen a moment, as he took a nervous breath.

"I'd be happy enough ... as long as I was watching it with you."

There was a pause of thirty seconds or so, during which time Harry's harassed mind conspired with his overworked heart to imagine Hermione whooping, or squealing, or lying face down on her bed and kicking her little besocked feet in the air behind with rampant joy. But these were thoughts not only very silly and unlikely, but downright disturbing.

Then the phone pinged again. _"I accept your terms._ _And I'll hold you to them!"_

 _"_ We have a deal then! How's the North Pole?"

 _"Cold, I imagine! But we aren't at the Pole, cheeky, but this is the last point of civilisation before we head out there. Once we leave, my phone will be out of signal range. So I'll take this last opportunity to wish you a Happy Birthday, Harry. Then I really ought to_ _g_ _et_ _some_ _sleep._ _I_ _have a long day ahead of_ _me tomorrow_ _."_

"Me, too!" Harry typed back. "All cake and sweets and treats. It'll be exhausting!"

 _"_ _Fancy swapping?"_

"Not a chance!"

_"Well, can't blame a girl for trying! Right, I'm going to turn in, Harry. Have a great birthday, I'll be thinking of you. Don't eat too much and get so fat that you'll look like me in all my cold-weather gear. Honestly, you should see me! I look like a beach ball with arms and legs and a head!"_

"Take a picture and show me! I have to see this!" Harry typed as he laughed.

 _"Not a chance!"_ Hermione replied, swiftly.

"Spoilsport! Well, you go and sleep. Be safe out there on the snow. Night, Hermione xxx."

_"Goodnight to you too, and Happy Birthday, Harry. See you soon xxx."_

Harry looked at the three little kisses, felt the warmth that they stirred all through him, then sadly closed down his phone. He was about to close his eyes, too, when the door to his bedroom opened slowly and his mother appeared in the frame.

"You could have knocked," Harry muttered.

" _Knock, knock_ ," Lily replied with a wry smile. "I heard you banging around in here just now so I chanced that you'd still be up. What was all the racket about anyway?"

"Hagrid bought me a birthday present," Harry grinned, nodding at the slowly stirring _Monster Book of Monsters_. "I had to fight it to shut it up!"

"Oh dear, I bet the people at Flourish and Blotts will just _love_ that! _"_ Lily laughed sardonically, eyeing the book with caution as Marici sat on it to subdue it once more. "I remember back in my Hogwarts days when they released the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_. A shop worker told me they'd bought five hundred copies but couldn't find a single one! But I suppose that's better than having your fingers bitten off!"

"It would be," Harry agreed, then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "But why have you come to see me, Mum? What are you after?"

"Nothing, my paranoid little warlock!" Lily smirked. "I just thought I'd wish my son a happy birthday, that's all. You were born very early on July 31st, so it's almost the exact time, give or take a couple of hours. So ... happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks, Mum," Harry smiled back.

"Now, I know I'm not the person you would _prefer_ to be spending your birthday with," Lily went on, entering the room fully now. "But I come bearing cocoa and cookies ... if you've got room for another girl in your life."

Harry flushed deeply in the dark, and was thankful for the shadows that hid it from his mother. He instead focused on the tempting tray that Lily was holding up in her hopeful hands, and Harry found that he wasn't as tired as he'd previously thought. He scooted aside on his bed, his mother closed the door and crossed the room, before tucking under the quilt with her blushing, ever-confused son.

Lily offered Harry one of the hot chocolates and a cookie from a plate she had them arranged on.

"Have a cookie," she encouraged. "They're lemon and white chocolate, and I got addicted to them during my pregnancy cravings. They're very good."

So Harry took a chance ... and it turned out his mother was right. These were good cookies.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, tapping the handle to his mug a moment as he chewed away thoughtfully. Then he remembered Hermione's present. "Oh, by the way, Mum ... I just opened one of the gifts Hermione got me ... and I think you have some explaining to do."

Lily smiled shrewdly. "I did wonder when you'd come to ask me about that. I didn't expect it to be this quick, but I knew it would come all the same."

"You gave her the Emerald Tablet you showed me back in Annwn all those years ago!" Harry exclaimed. "Why? And did you test her with it?"

"No, I didn't test her," Lily replied. "And as for why I gave it to her, I was just facilitating what I suspect is her role in your life, that's all."

Harry felt his skin prickle with flustered hotness. "Role? What role? What are you talking about?"

Lily sipped on her cocoa a moment, before turning to sit facing Harry with her legs crossed and a business-like look on her face.

"Before you left Annwn we started you out on the very first steps into the study of alchemy, do you remember?" Lily began.

"How can I forget!" Harry cried, sarcastically. "I have the flesh wounds to prove it!"

He jabbed his finger at the pale purple scar on his forehead, his branding that the Magical Press loved so much, as proof of this painful memory.

"You can barely see it, stop being a baby," Lily cajoled lightly. "Anyway, we've focused much more on understanding Ancient Runes since then, as more often than not the basic language of alchemy is written in this mysterious script. But now, it's time we switched your focus back to the Art itself."

"I don't like art," Harry frowned. "Even Professor Bobross said that I don't have the gift ... and he can teach _anyone_ to paint."

"I'm not talking about painting or sculpture, Harry," Lily smiled fondly. "And is Bobross really still teaching at Hogwarts? My, my ... he must be a hundred and thirty years old if he is a day! Wow!"

"Mum ..."

"Oh right, sorry," Lily smirked. "Anyway, your father and I agree ... you are turning away from childhood now, entering your adolescent years in more ways than just being a whole extra number older. You are growing up at an astonishing speed, and you have matured so much, and done so much, already.

"So the time feels right to enter a more intermediate stage of things, separate you from the basic and foundation and move to something higher. And the reason we are so sure of this isn't just because of you ... it's because of your relationship with Hermione, too."

Harry blushed again. "Hermione and I aren't _in_ a relationship! How many times have I got to tell you?"

"Friendship is still a relationship, Harry," Lily pointed out with a maddeningly patient air. "And that is why we feel you can succeed as an alchemist, and why I gave Hermione my Emerald Tablet."

Harry blinked hard. "It was _your_ Tablet?"

Lily nodded. "I forged it myself, as all true alchemists should. I Apprenticed with Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel, you know, and they taught me the technique. Very few people ever create true Emerald Tablets, as refining the emerald to the exact level of purity is such a notoriously tricky process to get right and many fail at that point ... but I was able to succeed, because I was quite the Alchemical Adept, myself, before I became a Master of the Art.

"So now, I have no need of the Tablet. I can perform all my alchemical tasks from memory, so I gave it to Hermione, trusting that she would fulfil the role I suspect she has in your life and give it to you. Which she has, pretty much confirming my suspicions. One day, when she is ready, I'll teach her to make her own Tablet ... one that you _both_ will be able to use."

There was something in his mother's tone that made Harry's heart speed like an out of control locomotive. What did all this mean? So Harry asked that exact question.

"Mum ... what sort of meaningless, double-talk is this! I don't understand what you are on about. Roles? Suspicions? Please ... throw me a bone here."

Lily smiled fondly. "It's okay to be confused, Harry. In a way, you are supposed to be ... and someone else is supposed to help you find the answers and understanding you are looking for. In your case, I think that someone is _Hermione."_

Harry sat up, startled. "That ... that sounds like what I was told on High Brasil by the Tuatha De Danaan ... that Hermione and I must help each other to become Enlightened beings. Are you telling me that you know _how_ ... and that the Emerald Tablet will show us?"

"The Tablet will point you in the right direction," Lily corrected. "It will open the doors you will face ... but you and Hermione must work out how to walk through them together."

"That still doesn't make much sense," Harry frowned. "But tell me about this role Hermione has in my life. She came here on a prophecy that mentioned something like that, so what do you think it is?"

"Alchemy is a series of steps, repeated processes of purification through separation and reunification," Lily explained. "Base, imperfect matter is broken down, impurities are removed, then it is reformed in a more refined state. The process is repeated over and over to produce improved and more perfected forms."

"Lead becomes copper, which becomes silver, and then eventually gold," Harry nodded. "I see."

"Yes, in the most crude version of the Work," Lily confirmed through a dismissive little frown. "But true alchemists are not just concerned with earthly matters, but a higher, infinitely more spiritual Work, too. The concepts of purifying metals are applied to purifying the alchemists themselves, of turning them from crude mortals into Enlightened beings."

"Like The Shining Ones of High Brasil!" Harry exclaimed in a whisper. "So is _that_ how Hermione and I must get better ... by becoming alchemists?"

Lily nodded. "Of the spiritual kind, first and foremost, but learning the fundamentals of the Art will help immensely. It will give you a roadmap to follow, if you like. Which is why I gave Hermione my Emerald Tablet."

"But why did you think she would give it to me? You made it sound like a test."

"In a way, it was," Lily smiled. "Harry, if you remember just one lesson from me about alchemy let it be this ... alchemy is, at its heart, a process of _union._ It concerns the joining of opposites, of the binding of disparate things to create a perfected whole. And no true alchemist ever works alone. Flamel had his wife, Perenelle, and later taught Dumbledore, who never fully succeeded as an alchemist because he never had a true complimentary partner to work with.

"Then I came along and worked on my alchemy with your father ... and now, you have Hermione. She provides elements you lack, and you do the same for her. But one of her main roles is as your guide in this process ... and every guide needs the right tools to succeed."

Harry fell open-mouthed a second. "So, you gave her the Tablet ... to see if she would fulfil her role as guide ... by giving _me_ the tools to become an alchemist? To guide me on this ... well, _quest_?"

"Precisely," Lily smiled. "And she did just that, proving what I have suspected for a while ... that she is your ideal alchemical partner, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard at the implications, but swatted the greater suggestion aside for now. "And we have both decided to study alchemy at Hogwarts next year. That's the right decision then, isn't it?"

"If you hadn't told me that already, I would have insisted on it," Lily smiled. "I even told Lyra to make sure Hermione chose that as an elective study, too, just in case."

"You did?" Harry asked faintly. "It's that important, then?"

"It is. I feel it will be the most important subject you study in your time at Hogwarts. If you had said that you were choosing Divination or something I might have insisted on home-schooling you instead!"

Harry smirked at his mother's teasing, then he frowned again. "Okay, Mum. Assuming I believe that any of this weirdness is actually _true_ , tell me something ... if you could have one, single, undeniable indicator that Hermione is this, er ... _perfect partner_ of mine ... what would it be?"

"Good question," Lily nodded, approvingly. "Well, there are lots of little markers we could look at, but an obvious one would be her Patronus. I've been told what yours is ..."

"A stag, like Dad's Animagus form," Harry cut in with a nod.

"Yes, but there may be more to it than that," Lily replied, cryptically.

"How so?"

"Well, we assumed that your Patronus took a stag form on account of you viewing your father as a protector from all things dark and harmful," Lily went on. "But if your alchemical role is what I think it is, then you would be associated with a stag in a much more different way ... as an aspect of your wild soul that you must trap and tame ... in order for it to lead you to Enlightenment.

"So, as a symbol of your path to the _light,_ the stag Patronus protected you from the darkness of the Dementors."

Harry gasped in shock. He had liked the idea of his Patronus being a form of his father that lived inside him, one that showed itself when Harry had need of him. But this ... this felt like something unspeakably deeper ... and so much more potently powerful as a result. Harry shivered a little with the enormity of the suggestion.

"And ... Hermione?" Harry murmured. "What would her Patronus be, if it was to do the same?"

"In alchemy, the stag has, as a partner, the unicorn," Lily explained with a soft smile. "So, if Hermione is ever able to produce a Patronus, and it turns out to be a unicorn, you will know for sure, Harry."

Lily smiled knowingly, leaving Harry to wonder quite _what_ he would know for sure, based on that heavily-loaded look. But such earth-shattering revelations were disturbed a moment later, as the shrill tenor of a crying baby reached their ears. The bedroom door opened again and James was there this time, gently rocking baby Seren on his shoulder.

"I've done my best, Mum, but this one just wont settle," James smirked. "It might have helped if I hadn't been sick on her when I changed her nappy, but it could be that she just wants her mother's touch."

"You weren't really sick on our daughter, were you?" Lily quirked crossly, as Harry laughed away next to her.

"Almost," James smirked back. "She was ripe. Seriously, Lil, what's in that baby food you are giving her? She was as fragrant as a rotting basilisk!"

Lily cocked her eyebrows sardonically at her husband. "It's _breast milk_ , James."

Harry guffawed into the back of his hand at the mention of the _B-Word_. Lily shook her head sadly at him, with a pitying look that clearly said _'like father, like son'._

"Right, I say we get up," she suggested brightly to Harry. "How about we have a midnight feast and a family game of Exploding Snap, or _Cluedo: The Hogwarts Edition_ _?_ I'll take Seren and put her to bed, you grab a whole load of fattening snacks from the kitchen, and your father can introduce you to Butterbeer as your late birthday treat? How does that sound?"

Harry brightened a bit from his confused state. "You're going to let me have actual beer?"

"Well, it isn't really beer," James replied for his wife. "There's no alcohol in it, but it is made like a beer ... just with caramel, which gives it the buttery flavour."

"Is it nice?" Harry queried.

"It's like ambrosia!" James grinned. "Come on, as it's your birthday I'll let you play as Miss Ravenclaw in Cluedo ... seeing as how you always flirt with her when we play anyway!"

"Excuse me! I do not flirt with moving toys!" Harry protested with a cheeky grin.

"No, just with Muggleborn witches from other worlds!" James teased with a wink.

Harry was in too light a mood to even protest. He simply poked his father in the ribs and ushered him back towards the living room, happy, as any other young wizard rightly should be, that today was his birthday.


	2. A Late Birthday Present

* * *

At the bottom portion of Fissick Alley, at the opposite end to where the street met with five others at the plaza of the Central Square to merge with Diagon Alley, and about half way down again from _Hooch and Hardbroom's Magical Flight Centre,_ the street curved in a sweeping arc into a series of quaint avenues and arcades in front of the grand marble façade of the Hippodrome. It was here that Fissick Alley led into the array of restaurants and coffee shops and bistros, that was the bustling social centre of Innphorm Alley, via magical London's French Quarter, which was affectionately known by the locals as the _Joan d'Arc_ on account of its unusual shape.

And it was also here that Harry's favourite place to get breakfast happened to be. It was a little cafe called _La Bijou Baguette,_ and as birthday breakfast location options went, there was simply no other choice in Harry's mind.

The sun was baking down on the bright cobble streets as Harry and his parents dug into an array of crepes with chocolate or sugar and lemon, a selection of French pastries, and jugs of coffee and orange juice. They had been lucky enough to snag prime seats on the cafe's verandah overlooking the Alley, and simply world-watched as they ate their way through their sumptuous breakfast.

Harry spent much of his time looking over at the Hippodrome opposite. They were staging a Summer run of an adaptation of _The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe_ , and Harry thought he wouldn't mind getting a ticket himself. The book was one of his favourites and he'd love to see it play out on the stage. He wondered if Hermione would be willing to add taking in the show to their list of Things to Do on future dates, if it ever ran again.

Not that they would be _actual_ dates or anything, of course ...

It might be quite fitting, Harry thought brightly, for Marici would be the lion and Hermione would be the witch ... though that would leave _him_ as the wardrobe, and he wasn't sure what that said about his role in this dynamic!

Chuckling to himself, Harry reached over for a croissant and looked out towards the Underground Station just beyond the Hippodrome, watching the people coming in and out of the terminus and idly wondering what they all might be doing with their days. This naturally led Harry to think about what Hermione might be doing on this, his birthday, and the unfortunate collision of circumstances that promised to add a tinge of misery to his special day.

But on top of that was knowing the actual reason for Hermione returning to her own world in the first place, and the guilt of his own role in it stirred awkwardly in Harry's gut, and was enough to rob him of his appetite a moment.

Lily noticed Harry's vexation, and turned to him curiously from her place across the table. "What's on your mind, Harry? You're not supposed to look so mopey on your birthday, you know. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Harry frowned back.

"That wasn't actually a question," Lily quirked pointedly. "But maybe I'll answer it for you ... you're worried about Hermione, aren't you?"

Harry nearly spat out his orange juice as he looked over at his mother in surprise. "How do you know?"

"I'm your Mum, it's sort of my job," Lily smiled warmly, feeding Seren a bit of toast as she grumbled from her pushchair. "So I can tell when something's up."

"You're still worried about her going home, aren't you?" James cut in, sagely. "Why? Are you afraid she wont come back?"

"No!" Harry blurted out as his face reddened. He was suddenly _very_ afraid of that possibility, consumed with this horrible thought, one that hadn't crossed his mind until his father had put it there. He was such an annoyance for doing things like that. Harry scowled bitterly at him. "I'm quite sure Hermione will come back. I hope she does, at least."

"What is it then? Or will you just miss Hermione that much while she's gone?" Lily teased.

Harry scowled at his mother now. "If you want to talk, I'll talk ... but stop trying to be as annoying as Dad! Or I'll just talk to Seren instead of either of you! I might get more sense from a baby, anyway!"

Lily laughed softly, causing Harry's sister to gurgle happily, too. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was just teasing you. But go on, tell us what's wrong."

"Well, it's just that Hermione going home for so long has got me thinking ... thinking about stuff to do with her that I've never really thought about before," Harry began, nervously.

"Ah, I think I see where this is going," Lily replied wisely, placing her coffee cup down onto the table and facing up to Harry with considered purpose, as though she were about to have one of _those_ talks with him, the ones you see in movies and hear horror stories about. Harry shivered with the potential awkwardness that had suddenly snaked onto his horizon, and moved swiftly to dispel it.

"No, no ... I don't mean stuff like _that!_ " Harry muttered out at speed, his words a mere jumble of fraught anxiety. "I mean things to do with where Hermione has come from, and what has happened to her since she's been here, and all that."

"Oh, okay," Lily breathed in obvious relief. She picked her coffee back up and smiled at Harry encouragingly. "Go on."

Harry reached out on instinct and dug his fingers into Marici's lush mane for courage. She was sat at his side under a Disillusionment Charm at the moment, and she mewled deeply in a show of solidarity, emboldening Harry to continue.

"Well, I suppose that I've never _really_ stopped to consider all of the sacrifices and suffering that Hermione has gone through over the last few years," Harry confessed. "She's endured so much, given up so much, and all at such a young age, too ... and it's all _my_ fault _._ "

Lily turned to her son with concerned eyes. "Now why in the world do you think that?"

"Because it's the truth," Harry countered, glumly. "And I've never appreciated the extent of it, really. But I've just been thinking about Hermione going home to see her parents, to cure them of what _they_ went through this past year, and it got me thinking about how everything has suddenly become so _real_ for us both.

"And every time I do I feel so guilty, and so stupid ... so very, very stupid. There's this huge part of Hermione and her life that I know so little about, but she gave it all up, gave up everything she knew, to come and help me. And all for what? To be possessed by the most evil wizard alive and nearly have Papageno killed by him? To have her parents attacked, too ... made victims of Riddle's war against me _through_ Hermione, because he couldn't get to either of us directly?

"I don't know what would have happened to Hermione if Riddle and Lockhart had succeeded, and I don't think I want to. But Tom Riddle possessing Hermione for much of the year, and so abhorrently abusing her dæmon at the end of it, is probably the worst part of it all ... it might be the worst memory I've ever had. I see it when I sleep, relive it when I dream. I cant stop thinking about it, Mum ... and I don't know how to stop it.

"And the only reason any of it has happened is because Hermione is here in this world, as my friend, when she could be safe and sound in the Oxford where she grew up. She'd be away from all of this ... it would just be her and Papageno, her parents and a normal life, with no greater danger than crossing the street without looking properly.

"So, yeah, it is all my fault ... but I feel so selfish, because _I've_ gotten so much out of knowing Hermione ... and I feel really guilty about wanting her to come back, even if it means facing more risks with me. I'm a horrible person, Mum."

At that point, Marici stirred and climbed up onto the bench seat next to Harry, laying her head in his lap. Harry smoothed his invisible dæmon lovingly, as she stretched out across his thighs. At the sound of Harry's wobbly voice, Lily rose and moved to him, sliding a protective arm around his shoulders, drawing him motherly close, eyeing Harry's movement in deep curiosity, as she always did.

But Lily seemed to know that even _she_ wasn't allowed to touch the dæmon, unless in the most extreme circumstances, without Harry's express permission ... which she had no idea how to ask for. But it still didn't stop her academic mind being fascinated by the whole thing.

"I suppose I don't really know what _thi_ _s_ is like, do I?" Lily mused, nodding towards the invisible Marici. "Not with my dæmon being stuck inside me, and everything?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Mum, you really can't. I know Chi's only been corporeal for a short while, but I feel like she's been with me since the day I was born. It's sort of like suddenly realising that I have an extra limb or a new sense that I hadn't noticed before, but that I always knew was there on some subconscious level. I suppose Hermione going home has made me think about what my life would be like without my best friend, or my dæmon, or all of the things that they both bring to me ... and it makes me sad."

Lily smoothed Harry's hair gently. "But what is it about this that makes you so morose? We're supposed to be celebrating your birthday, you know. You don't seem to have much luck with your _special days_ , do you?"

"I know, maybe I'm cursed," Harry fretted, easing free to rest against the back of the bench. "I cant explain what it's like, Mum ... but it's such a frightening idea. I suppose it just got me thinking about other things, too."

"Such as?"

"Such as ... _all of it_!" Harry whined. "I've never given it as much thought as it deserves, but the amount of sacrifices that Hermione has made ... it's actually insane. She's suffered so much ... and all because of me."

"Yet you still haven't convinced _me_ about that," Lily replied, softly. "I think you are being far too hard on yourself."

"Do you!" Harry cried, incredulously. "I didn't ask for this life, Mum, or this responsibility. I never had a choice in it, and neither did you or Dad. Some other power decided for us. I didn't ask for Tom Riddle to have whatever bad experiences turned him into a Dark Lord, and I didn't ask for some prophet to say that I had the power to beat him somehow. I didn't ask for him to find out about that, or to target me and then force you and Dad to go underground for ten years and all the rest of it.

"But all of that happened. Then Voldemort goes into Hermione's world, and I don't know if his being there _caused_ her to somehow become involved in my prophecy or what, but I didn't ask for Lyra's truth reader to tell Hermione that she had to get to this world to save my life, or to help me fight Voldemort in the end. I don't even know how I'm supposed to do that. I don't think Hermione does, either, to be honest.

"Neither of us asked to be so involved with all of this, but still Hermione came for me. Without knowing who I was, or what sort of person I might be, or even what we had to do, she still came to help ... because she thought that it was the right thing to do. She didn't ask to be drawn into this, but once she had been she was determined to get to me, no matter what."

James smiled fondly from the other side of the table. "And that is why we all like her so much. We could all use a friend like that in our lives!"

"But look at what it's cost her!" Harry shot back, hotly. "She was barely eleven years old when she decided to leave her parents behind. _Eleven!_ And she left not only her parents, but her entire _world_ ... for me, a boy she didn't even know. She left her family, everything she knew, and crossed into this world to try and find me and hope that I wasn't a dickhead not worthy of her help.

"And look at how I've repaid her! By getting her into near-death situations bordering on half-a-dozen times already! Not only that, but because of Dust or Lyra's alethiometer, Voldemort knows that Hermione is the key to unlocking my weird power to defeat him. So he isn't targeting me anymore ... his goal is to destroy _her_ before she can get up to this task. And I don't think he'll ever stop.

"But he can't get to her so easily right now. So he uses third-parties ... like Quirrell and Lockhart and whoever else will come next ... and at the same time targets the weaknesses in Hermione's circle, like her parents when he set his basilisk on them last year. Just like you told me he tried to do with your old friend, Peter Pettigrew. So now _they'_ _v_ _e_ suffered on account of me, too. It's a wonder Hermione doesn't rightly hate my guts."

"Hermione obviously thinks you are worth all of that," Lily consoled, gently. "She wouldn't have stayed friends with you otherwise, would she?"

Harry huffed dismissively. "I'm not so sure about that. I don't know if _anyone_ is worthy enough to warrant all those sacrifices to be made for them."

"Well ... would you make them for _her_?"

"Of course I would!" Harry snapped back immediately without even thinking. He froze and swallowed awkwardly at the impact of his understanding, as it melted into his mind.

Lily just smiled at him. "There you go then. Look, Harry, I know I'm your Mum, but I'm still a _girl_ , you know ... and I know exactly the kind of motivation it would take to make such sacrifices for someone you like. You're getting to the age where you're starting to understand that, too. Which I why I like Hermione so much ... to do what she's done for you already shows a level of care that goes beyond regular friendship.

"And I could never thank her enough for taking such diligent care with you. It makes me sleep easy knowing that you have someone looking out for you as much as she does. It just so happens that you live in an extraordinary world ... so you need extraordinary friends to help you along in it."

"In any case," James added. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught your mother brewed will have Hermione's parents right as rain in no time. Sirius just thought it might be easier for them to wake up to a friendly face, to ease the shock of being in an unfamiliar environment."

"These things that have happened to Hermione are tough to take for sure," Lily took over. "But it just shows how exceptionally strong a girl she is to have endured them all and still come through it with a smile on her face."

Harry felt a warmth rise in his chest as he thought of Hermione's smile. If that was the last memory he'd have of her, it was a nice one to cherish. But it soothed, rather than placated Harry's guilt.

"I still should have taken more of an interest in her origins," Harry moaned. "I barely even asked Sirius about it, and he lived there for a few years, didn't he? He could have told me as much as Hermione, probably."

"Well, maybe he just wanted you to experience it for yourself."

Harry snapped his head around, deeply shocked to hear his Godfather's voice just behind him. But it wasn't pleasure he felt at seeing him ... it was roiling anger.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry scythed.

"Well, I expected a better welcome than that for my surprise appearance!" Sirius chuckled as he vaulted the low trellis fence. "I think he had better manners when _I_ was raising him, you know."

Sirius winked at Lily, who narrowed her eyes in a very nonplussed expression.

But Harry was too irate to be ignored. "Forget about all that and answer my question, you! Why are you here?"

"I told you, I didn't want to miss your birthday," Sirius replied with an infuriating smirk. "So here I am."

"Sod my birthday!" Harry yelled. "You're supposed to be with Hermione! It's your job to look after her while she goes back to see her parents! I don't want you here while _she's_ there and in danger!"

"I am wounded," Sirius mocked, theatrically, stealing bacon from Harry's plate. "I thought you'd want my birthday present at the very least."

"Well, I don't!" Harry sniped. "Not if it's as thoughtless as _you!"_

Sirius barked out a laugh, his eyes sparkling in his mirth. "Let me show them to you, just in case, eh?"

"No, I don't want to see," Harry stropped, folding his arms over his chest. Even his Mum and Dad were smirking, which stoked his ire even more. He scowled at them all in turn.

But Sirius was not to be derailed from his course.

"Right, let's see what we have here," he began, magically resizing a set of shopping bags from his pockets and disappearing into them a moment. "Okay. We have this rather fetching heavy jacket made of dragonhide and lined with mammoth fur ... great insulator that ... and these trousers made of hydra leather, which are nice and waterproof. We have a set of heavy boots with special snow-melting charms woven in - they'll be useful - and a new hat, scarf and glove set with the _Farringdon Fliers_ branding. Unfortunately, thermal underwear is out of season, so we'll just have to make do without them."

"This is all out of season, you wally!" Harry cried, incredulously. "Have you noticed that these are _Winter_ clothes?"

"I have," Sirius nodded piously.

"And have you noticed _that_!" Harry shot, pointing at the baking sun and blue skies overhead. "What am I supposed to do with those things in this heat? I'll melt!"

"Well, you can just form a pool with the rest of us then," Sirius grinned. Then he turned to James and Lily, who had returned to her seat. "I found this horrendously cute snow-suit for Seren, you'll love it I'm sure. I packed it along with your things."

Harry halted in his racing anger for a second, replacing it with confusion. "Packed what? What's going on?"

"Oh, I forgot these," Sirius smirked, reaching into a final pocket and resizing three travel cases, which he lined up next to the table.

James nodded over. "Did you remember the sledges? I haven't beaten you in a race since the last time we snuck out of Hogwarts and scaled Ben Nevis for the annual _Race of All Races_. I even lost to Remus that year ... my ego has never gotten over it."

"So _that's_ where you went!" Lily hooted triumphantly. "I knew it had to be something _seriously_ stupid for you to stand me up on a Hogsmeade date. I nearly went with Severus to the next one, just as a punishment."

"It would have hurt you as much as me, Lil," James sighed, grimly. "But thanks for not doing that. I might have done something _very_ jealous ..."

"Oi!" Harry shouted. "This is my birthday and you're all acting like morons! What the hell is going on?"

"Well, kiddo, it's like this," Sirius smirked. "A couple of weeks ago I told our Hermione that the Mandrake Restorative Draught was ready to take to her parents, and that I thought she should be there to give it to them. I thought she'd be really excited, and she was ... for about five minutes, then she realised that going home would mean missing your birthday.

"And she's been a right misery guts ever since. Even Lyra is getting annoyed with her stroppy attitude, and Lyra dotes on Hermione like she's her own kid. We hardly see her and Pap for their moping these days. I just happened to mention this to your old Dad down the pub the other night, and lo and behold he said that he was having the same problem with you."

"So our solution was to get you a late surprise for your birthday," James took over. "You see, your Mum and I haven't had a proper holiday in over a decade ..."

"... and I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights ..." Lily chipped in eagerly.

"... and we knew that we'd get no joy out of you if you stayed like this all Summer ..."

"... so we thought we'd take a _Winter_ holiday during your Summer break from school," Lily took over. "Namely to the Far North at first, then on into _Hermione's World,_ so that you can learn all about the place that your best friend came from."

Harry's heart leapt like a jumping salmon. "Really? You're not making all this up are you?"

"Of course not," Sirius laughed. "Why do you think I've spent so much on all this cold-weather gear?"

Harry jumped up in a burst of excitement, forgetting all about poor Marici, who hissed at Harry as he knocked her head against the underside of the table in his restless enthusiasm. He ignored her angry yelp of pain and darted to Sirius, hugging him tight.

"Sorry, sorry," he hushed quickly. "I didn't mean all that I said! This is the best birthday present _ever_!"

"Don't tell Minerva that!" Sirius chuckled. "She still wants to outdo me for getting you a broomstick when we first met!"

Harry laughed and stepped back, his heart lighter than it had been in days. "So, when do we go?"

"Tomorrow," James replied. "We thought we might have a sunny birthday before heading out into the snow."

"And do you really have sledges packed?" Harry beamed. "I reckon I'll beat you both in a race, I bet!"

"But can you beat _me_?" Lily asked in her amusement. "I'll have you know that I am the final, and so forever reigning, Champion of _The Race of All Races."_

"Are you really!" Harry grinned. "Cool. I accept your challenge, Mum!"

Then Harry leant over Seren's pushchair and spoke in a quite sickly, babyish voice, one that was quite unlike his own, but that he had caught himself using a few times lately. Had really had to stop it. "And are you looking forward to seeing the snow, little Sis? We can build a snowman and make snow angels ... well, you'll just have to watch, because you're too little to help ... but maybe Hermione can Charm you a warm snowball or something to play with, she's good with things like that, making hot things cold and cold things warm. Ooh, Sirius! Does Hermione know we are coming? I sort of hope not ... it'd be such a wicked surprise!"

"I think, right about now, Lyra will be telling her the good news," Sirius chuckled back. "And, before you get all militant again, Lyra and Hermione are as safe as they can be. Lyra's taken them to see the bears before they head off to Oxford, and once they are under the protection of Iorek Byrnison even _Lewd_ Voldemort wont be able to lay a finger on them. Actually, Lyra has gone to ask for Iorek's help with some disturbing developments involving The Magisterium that Mal was telling us about the other day."

"What developments?" Harry queried.

"Nothing that concerns you," Sirius returned, bluntly but evasively. But Harry was too happy and excited to really pay that very much mind.

For he was going to visit another world. He was going to see proper armoured bears, and more strange witches, and a thousand other sights that would amaze and astonish him. But, more important than any of that, he was going to the one place that he wanted to be more than any other ... to the side of his best friend, the very best _person_ he thought he'd ever meet ever, in this world, her world, or any other they might visit.

And he couldn't wait to see her, to start yet another adventure in their crazy friendship so far.


	3. The Zebra Crossing

* * *

Light, incessant snow drifted and swirled and curled in the air, driving merrily past the windows of _Ice Station Zebra_ and settling thick on the trees and bushes outside, flecking the anbaric survey equipment that stood dormant in the rear yard with a powdery dusting and making everything look like it was lit with the soft white light of another world.

Hermione watched it all through the large window of the kitchen, as she waited for the kettle to come to the boil. She wondered what sorts of tests the equipment would be used for today, curious as to which bit of atomcraft or atmospheric phenomena was on the agenda for the Scholars on this snowy morning. She sang quietly to herself as she waited for the kettle, humming the catchy chorus line to the current _Weird Sisters_ hit (' _Baptise me with a Goblet of Fiyaahhh!!')_ that sat at the top of the charts back home.

That was a curious thought to have, she mused absently, that she should consider the world of Harry and Hogwarts as 'home' now. Of course, she wasn't insensible as to the main reason _why_ , but it was still a little strange to think it all the same. After all, here she was making the day's first cup of tea for herself and her mother, and all she could think was about how nice it would be to be sharing it with her in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, rather than out here in the desert of snow and ice.

For they had been in the wintry wilderness of the remote research station for over a week now, since Lyra had brought Hermione back through the portal with the Mandrake Restorative Draught safely in her bag. Hermione's parents had been revived in little under an hour, the emotional reunion lasted a little longer, and the explanations took longer still ... and Hermione hadn't even gotten to her apologies yet. That was on _her_ agenda for the morning ... she just needed to decide which one it was best to start with.

So she focused first on making the best cups of tea that she could manage, hoping that they might lubricate her guilty pleas for forgiveness. In fairness, her parents hadn't seemed angry or cross with her, but this subdued, resentful shame that Hermione felt for herself was pressing on her chest, demanding to be satiated. She wouldn't be content until she'd dealt with it.

She took her tea cups and made her way through the research facility. It was surgically pristine here, and extremely bland for the being so, despite the exciting studies that were conducted all around them. Hermione frowned at that, thinking it would be better to celebrate and revel at being at the forefront of such frontier research, rather than being brisk and business-like about everything. But that was just how the Scholars seemed to prefer it, so who was she to tell them otherwise?

Everything here was made of metal; shiny surfaces of stainless steel gleamed in the fierce glow of small anbaric lights, set high in the crooks where the walls met the ceiling, and the entire facility was awash with a sort of low-level humming from the generators and equipment that would drive you mad if you didn't get used to it double-quick. That was if the heavy smell around the place ... a sterile, medical sort of aroma ... didn't get the job done first.

The doors were all motion activated, with little red lights that turned green when they permitted access, and shaped like the cartouches of hieroglyphs found in the ancient African Kingdoms. They slid open with a little hiss of warm air, and made Hermione feel as if she were walking around bowels of a deep-water ship, rather than an advanced scientific facility in the middle of nowhere.

Hermione found her way back through to the Communal Lounge, which was equally as stark and characterless as the rest of the place, despite being the central socialising location of the complex. Hermione simply assumed that the minds of Scholars worked differently to those of regular people, and that they must see indulgent comfort as illogical, as something that distracted from the pure pursuit of academic discovery.

It was an idea that Hermione could understand, even if she would never dream of trading in her feather mattress just so she could find out how it was made.

The door to the Lounge hissed open and Hermione stepped carefully over the raised threshold, eager not to spill so much as a drop of tea onto the white-tiled floor. Then she looked up and chided herself.

"Sorry, Dad. I didn't realise you were up," Hermione apologised as she placed the tea mugs down in front of herself and her mother. "I can go and get you a coffee, if you'd like."

"No, that's alright," David Granger smiled. "I'll just pinch a bit of your mother's!"

"No you will not!" Catherine Granger rebuked, pulling her mug covetously out of her husband's reach. "Go and get your own if you want one."

"In a little bit ... Beau's only just settled down."

David looked down at his lap where his dæmon, who was called Beaujolais, was shifting as he dozed. He was a tawny-coloured rabbit with big, floppy ears, which were right now being licked and preened by Rampula, his wife's prim little fox dæmon. He was such a trim, slender little thing that Hermione had thought for the longest time that he was a _she_ , as the dæmon looked more vixen than fox, but her mother explained that sometimes animals (both dæmon and not), like people, didn't always conform to standard expectations.

And it was the expectations of dæmons that they were discussing as Hermione entered the room with the tea.

"She still doesn't feel right," Catherine frowned, as sure and knowledgeable as if she were talking about her own dæmon. "Has she started speaking to you yet?"

"No," David sighed in his concern. "It's not as if she's closed off either, like if we'd had a row or something. She just doesn't seem to be _thinking_ anything. It's like all the lights are on but she's hiding under the bed."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked as she sat down. "What's going on?"

"We aren't sure," Catherine replied. "But ever since we woke up from our _long sleep_ last week, our dæmons have been acting strangely. They are very quiet, both in terms of speech and in our minds. Pula seems largely alright, but he never was the liveliest dæmon to begin with."

"But Beau seems very off," David took over. "She hasn't spoken a word since we woke up. Her mind is switched on, I know that much, but it's like she's gone mute. I don't know how else to explain it."

"Is there anyone you can talk to about it?" Hermione asked, anxiously. Her parents concern was very deep and very real. "Lyra maybe? She knows lots about dæmons, stuff that most people don't. Perhaps she can help."

"We have been talking to Lyra about it," Catherine confessed. "And about you, of course. I'm starting to like her, you know. She cares for you a great deal, and I'll sleep soundly knowing that she's looking after you on this great adventure."

"Yeah, she's fierce," Hermione grinned, sipping her tea. There was a opening to grovel that she had to grab. "I'm sorry, Mum. I've never said it but I am."

"Sorry for what, honey?"

"For going away," Hermione mumbled. "I just upped and left on a whim, not thinking how it would affect you and Dad. And I never imagined that it would stretch to _this."_

She gesticulated pointedly at their out-of-sorts dæmons, which included Pap, as he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he today? He was getting very artful lately, never telling Hermione where he was going. She'd have to tell him off when she saw him.

"I never thought how what I was doing might get you into trouble or danger," Hermione ploughed on while her nerve was up. "I was really selfish, and I'm sorry for that. I hope you can forgive me, or that you don't feel too badly about me over everything."

Catherine smiled as she got up and crossed to her anguished little girl, eager to ease her agitation.

"Hermione, listen to me," Catherine began, sitting next to Hermione and taking her hand in both her own. "You are our daughter, and we love you very, very much. Nothing but the most heinous of crimes could make us stay angry with you for long. And this isn't something like that, is it?

"What you are doing is brave and exciting and strange ... it's extraordinary, really. But then, _you_ are extraordinary ... you always have been ... so we shouldn't be surprised that the Fates have delivered this future into your lap, should we? So no more of this moroseness, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione grinned coyly. "Thanks, Mum."

Hermione gave her mother a one-armed hug, before Catherine returned to her own seat.

"So," Catherine began. "When you came home to us last year, you seemed pretty sure that this boy you met at school was the one the alethiometer predicted you would find and ... well ... all the rest of it! So, are you still convinced? Is this Harry Potter _the one?"_

"No, no, I don't want to hear about this," David tittered lightly. "It is too early in the morning for talk about boyfriends. I haven't even got a coffee to wash down _that_ particular pill with!"

" _Daddy!"_ Hermione giggled sweetly. "I haven't got a boyfriend, alright? Harry and I are just friends. Promise."

"Well that's something, I suppose," David replied teasingly.

"But for how long?" Catherine chipped in, baitingly. "I want you to tell me all about this special boy in your life ... I wont talk to you about anything else for the rest of the day if you don't!"

"Hmm, an unhappy alternative lies before you, Hermione," David told her, peering over the rim of his spectacles in jesting seriousness. "For the rest of the day, you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will not speak to you again, if you do not tell us all your juicy stories about Harry Potter ... and _I_ will not speak to you again, if you _do!"_

"Oh, David!" Catherine cried in a laugh, as Hermione hooted away across the table from them. "Stop being such a dusty old prude!"

"He's such a snowflake, isn't he, Mum?" Hermione sniggered away. "All soft and fluffy. Speaking of snow, I think I'm going to go out for a walk in it. Is that alright?"

"Yes, but don't go too far from the station," David warned her. "Who knows what could be lurking out there in the woods."

"And be careful out near that pond over the ridge, there's no telling how thick the ice is over there," Catherine added.

"I will, I don't fancy a swim today anyway!" Hermione replied, cheekily.

After finishing her tea, Hermione spent about half an hour getting into her cold-weather things. She pulled on her thickest jumper under her big fluffy coat, stepped into the very unflattering wolf hide leather trousers and heavy boots, before pulling on her pink woolly mittens and the hat with the flaps that came down over her ears.

Lastly, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the cosy scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf that she kept hidden there. It had once belonged to Harry, and Hermione had 'borrowed' it last year just after she'd been suspended from Hogwarts, and she hadn't gotten around to giving it back just yet.

The truth was, she didn't _want_ to give the scarf back, even though she felt a tinge of guilt for the theft. It still contained the faint, unmistakable scent of Harry, and Hermione found the aroma cosy and comforting, which is why she kept it under her pillow and smothered her face in it every night before she went to sleep.

Besides, Harry either didn't seem to notice that it was missing, or didn't mind that Hermione had taken it. Whatever the explanation was, Hermione had the scarf and Harry was going along quite merrily without it ... so Hermione was happily content to keep it with her for as long as she could.

One thing Hermione didn't seem to be able to keep with her, however, was her errant, adventurous dæmon. Papageno seemed to getting more and more independent all the time, often going whole days without being around her. At the moment, with her parents demanding so much of her time, Hermione didn't see this as a problem, but she did wish that Papageno would at least tell her where he was going when he went for one of his wanders.

His latest expedition took up most of the Hermione's morning, she as tried to locate him by following in his slipstream. She spent a good couple of hours moving around from room to room of the research station, scouring the three floors above ground as well as the four that were beneath the surface, but to no avail. Papageno was evading all of Hermione's best efforts to find him.

"Where can he be?" Hermione huffed crossly, as she held her hands to the glass and peered out through the dark observation window of the lowest floor of Ice Station Zebra, which was deep under the ice and looked out across a vast ravine of sharp, bright blue crystal shafts, that lined the shoreline of an underground lake at the heart of a vast, vaulted cavern.

There were places Papageno couldn't be, of course, for the Station was full of restricted rooms and chambers, where all the delicate scientific studies were taking place, and then there were places he shouldn't be, like store cupboards and other bedrooms. There were also places that he would be downright stupid to be, like the dangerous septic water tanks, or around near the charged wires and cables and domes of the array of powerful anbaric generators that provided energy to the Station.

But after her search inside became fruitless, Hermione was left with just one conclusion.

"He must be outside, which is where I was going in the first place!" Hermione scowled, cross because she was very hot and sweaty, having been running around the hot Station in all her thermals. She was pretty convinced that she would likely die of humiliation if Harry ever saw her dressed like this, trussed up like a human-shaped inflatable balloon with pink mittens and a woolly hat, but she couldn't even conceptualise the shame that she'd feel if he _smelled her_ like this, all musty and naturally fragrant from her exertions ... the mortification might be enough for Hermione to consider throwing herself from the roof of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower!

Hermione was still chuckling to herself about this when she made her way to the exit of the Station. There were two sets of doors here with a little compression area between them.The idea behind this was to create a sort of bubble between the freezing temperatures outside and the needs of the Station staff within. This way, they wouldn't lose so much heat when people were coming and going throughout the day.

Once the outer doors had opened, Hermione pulled her hat down tight over her ears and stepped out into the snow. The icy wind smashed into her like a slap to the chest, despite all her many levels of clothing. It took a moment to adjust, to allow the cold air in her shocked and heavy lungs to filter into her blood, without freezing her where she stood. Hermione stomped her feet and clapped her mitten-covered hands together to get some circulation going, then moved off into the ankle-deep drifts of the ever-falling snow.

It didn't take long for Hermione to find what she was looking for. It may have been snowing, but the main causeway leading to Ice Station Zebra was an avenue lined by Scots Pines and Canadian Spruces, with the research complex hidden away in a dense forest of the same genus, and they created a canopy that absorbed much of the downfall from above.

On account of this, Hermione was quickly able to locate the shallow remnants of footprints ... ones distinctly cat-shaped. She chuckled to herself ... Papageno may have settled in a permanent form that was best-suited to blending in, once they'd reached Harry's world, but Hermione often wondered if he ever regretted picking a species of cat that was so heavy-footed and bandy-legged.

And Hermione didn't even want to get started on that squashed face that he had chosen for himself! The amount of times she'd had to explain to her dorm girls at Hogwarts that Pap just looked that way ... and that he _hadn't_ just run headfirst into the nearest brick wall, well ... if she'd collected a Galleon for every time she'd given that excuse she'd be well on the way to becoming a very wealthy witch!

Giggling away to herself, Hermione followed the trail of Papageno's footprint in the the snow. They led away from the main complex of the Station, down the shallow hill behind it, and towards the hollow bowl of the long-abandoned cloud-iron mines that Ice Station Zero backed on to.

It was on account of the density of the cloud-iron here that the location was selected to build the Station in the first place. It created curious magnetic phenomena, and had something to do with fluctuations in the ionosphere, and seemed to be just _dripping_ in Dust, according to Lyra and Mal, who had explained all of this to Hermione, but still couldn't account for the presence of this amount of Dust at all.

Hermione thought it was pretty obvious why there was so much Dust in the cloud-iron mine ... for it was at the very centre of it that Sirius had been forced apart from his dæmon, Padfiette, creating a portal by which he could return home to his friends and family. That sort of thing was bound to leave an impression on the landscape!

But it was another sort of impression that Hermione was concerned with just now. For Papageno's footprints led right down into mine, and Hermione followed them meticulously, plodding along like the slow narrative of a bad story, until she found herself looking right at that gateway to another world, and the millions of strings of brilliant, dazzling, dancing light that it was made up of ... the lights of a million other universes that were converging at this one spot.

And then a horrific thought came to Hermione.

"No ... he wouldn't have, would he?" Hermione asked out loud to herself. "Even my _Pap_ wouldn't be stupid enough to _cross through_ on his own, would he?"

The answer came stunningly quick ... of course he would have! He was _her_ , keen and quick and curious, and the chance to have a look at other worlds would be hugely tempting. After all, if you could get to them, why would you want to restrict yourself to just one world? Think of all the wonders just waiting to be seen in the millions of others within your reach.

The problem was, which one did he go to? He could, quite literally, be anywhere.

Hermione felt her pulse rise in her anguished frustration. Desperate and unsure, she called out into the light.

"Pap! Papageno! Where are you, my love? Can you hear me? Send me a sign ... any sort of sign ... I'm scared for you, Pap!"

And then ... Hermione got her sign.

The portal strings moved, as if caught in a gentle sea breeze, their lights flashed gold and silver and blue and purple ... and then ... something flew out of it at speed.

"Oof!" Hermione yelped, as the projectile from another world hit her in the crook of chest and shoulder. It didn't hurt, so much as it took Hermione by surprise. She looked down, to see the semi-formed remains of what it was that had struck her.

And she scowled in her confusion. "That ... that looks like a ... a _snowball!"_

A second or two later and she was certain that it was ... for a second one had hit her square in the crown of her head, where she was knelt down following the first snowy assault. She stood up crossly, stepping back just in case her invisible assailant was taking aim again.

"What is going on?" Hermione demanded huffily, to the world in general ... to Dust itself, if it was listening.

But it wasn't Dust that answered her.

"You know, you could throw one _back_! This game is so much more fun if you actually try and _play_!"

Hermione heard the voice as if in a dream, as though it were real and imagined all at once. The sound held her transfixed in place, her body stunned into immobility a moment. But then, the portal wobbled and flashed again ... and then something started to _come_ _through_ ... or, more precisely, s _omeone_ did.

Hermione watched in open-jawed astonishment as the tall silhouette of Sirius came into sharp focus, as though he were stepping into light from deep shadow. Next to him, the figure James Potter emerged, next to Lily and baby Seren, who she was holding in her arms.

In front of them, a large golden lioness was slowly peeking into view. Hermione only had a second to resister the shameful shock of seeing Papageno actually _riding_ Marici, his paws lost in her thick, luscious mane ... which Pap seemed to be _caressing_ , almost, and purring deeply at the intimate contact ... before the owner of the voice which had spoken, the hidden snowball attacker, came fully into a new world for the first time in his life.

_"Harry!"_

Hermione screeched out his name with passion and gusto. She hadn't meant to do that, but her heart had decided that it was the best voice to use, so they ran with it. And they were properly running a second later, before barrelling into Harry with a hug so ferocious that it knocked him clean off his feet. Hermione clung on and went with him, as they both went tumbling down a slight incline away from the gateway with the adults all laughing heartily behind them.

After about three seconds of rolling and tumbling they came to a halt, with Hermione on top, panting and slightly breathless, her cheeks tinged pink from the cold and her expression bright and unfathomable. Harry felt his mouth become dry and arid as he tried to still his speeding heart and catch his breath, the loss of which had absolutely nothing to do with the rigorous fall they'd just had.

"Hey you," Hermione beamed, her eyes so bright that Harry felt dazzled by the glare. Her face was so close to his that he could see the drops of snow melting in her eyebrows, and felt the rush of her warm breath on his cheeks when she spoke, the effect of which sent tingly pimples erupting all over ever inch of his creepy, crawling flesh. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, thanks!" Harry laughed lightly. "It's nice to see you, too!"

"Of course it's nice to see you! This is the best surprise ever!" Hermione squealed back excitedly. "But you know what I mean! How did you get here?"

"Pap showed us!" Harry teased with a grin. Hermione narrowed her eyes, adorably cute and cross, and Harry felt he ought to give her a proper explanation. "There was nothing fun to keep us at home, so we thought it was high time I came and saw _yours._ So, here we are!"

"Oh, Harry! This is going to be so great!" Hermione sang, falling down atop him to hug him again. "Lyra can take you with us when we go to see Iorek and his Armoured Bears, and we can go into my world's Oxford to compare it to yours, and I can show you around Jordan, which is where Lyra's college is, and Jericho Prep, which is where I went to school before Hogwarts, and it'd be really funny if we ran into some of the nasty girls from my old school, because I could show them ..."

Hermione abruptly stopped talking as if she thought she'd said too much. She snapped her head up sharply, looking down so attentively at Harry it were as if she were captivated by him. And she really was far too close ... Harry was sure he could see her irises vibrating with her blazing intent, that unreadable expression crossing over them in an even more pronounced manner now, and there was a slight trace of moisture or melted snow over her lips, which were red and deep and glossy from the cold ... though that didn't explain why they looked so soft ...

And for a moment, just half a second maybe, Harry was sure that Hermione was going to move her face forward and let him _feel_ how soft her lips were, possibly by pressing them gently against his own ...

But she didn't, and Harry felt his paused heartbeat kick into high gear once more, as a profound and disconcerting sensation flooded through him. Even Harry wasn't so dense as to not know the name of _that_ feeling ... for it was blatant and unrestrained _disappointment._ Now what in the hell was that all about?

Harry didn't have much time to think about that, as Hermione was on her feet and offering her hand so she could tug him back to his, too. Harry felt colder when she went, not just for the loss of her body heat, but for the absence of her very weight, which had been a very real thing that he had been curiously enjoying while she was on top of him. But when Harry was upright again, Hermione didn't let go of her grip around his fingers, which he was thankful for, as the cute mittens she was wearing were lovely and fluffy against this icy wind.

"So, Pap?" Hermione called to her dæmon, as she and Harry scaled the hill back to the others. "Did you really lead everyone here?"

"I did," Papageno confirmed. "That's where I've been going for the last few days, in case you were wondering."

"Which you know I was," Hermione frowned. "How did you even know they were there?"

"I just did," Papageno replied, somewhat evasively. "I was walking close by the portal one day and I just felt it ... felt _her_ ... on the other side. So I went through to find her, because I missed her a lot."

Papageno stepped forwards and brazenly rubbed his body against the crouched form of Marici, who was sat docile at Lily's feet. The great lioness closed her eyes, a deep, low sound rumbling in her throat at the contact with Papageno. Both Harry and Hermione felt a sort of _rumble_ inside, too, though it made them much too shivery and embarrassed to analyse what the sensation was or why they were feeling it. So they tried to not think about it for now, even though they could struggle to focus on little else.

"We were in Norway, taking a holiday," Harry explained to Hermione. "Then we thought we'd come and surprise you. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind! What are you talking about! I _love_ that you're here!" Hermione cried joyously. "Ooh, Harry! You can get to meet my parents now!"

Harry swallowed hard at the prospect, nervous all of a sudden, though he couldn't have said why.

"So, they're awake then?" Harry muttered. "They're not Petrified anymore?"

"No, they are all back to normal," Hermione beamed happily. "Well, there's something weird going on with their dæmons, but I don't know very much about that, so I'm leaving that to Lyra to work out. They are up and awake, that's the main thing ... and they'll be so excited to meet you! Come on, Harry ... and you Sirius ... and you Mr and Mrs Potter ... follow me! Ice Station Zebra is just over this ridge!"

* * *

 _ ** **Enjoying this story? Check out some of the**** _ _****others in my portfolio! Drop me a comment if you're enjoying any of my tales, or join the HMS Harmony Discord Server to chat with me and other like-minded Harmony shippers about all things Harry & Hermione! Thanks for reading and stay safe in these wacky times!** ** _


	4. Lights and Shadows in the North

* * *

"So, this must be the famous Harry Potter then!" Catherine Granger cried in glee. "Hermione has been telling us ever so much about you, it's lovely to finally put a face to the name and legend!"

"Oh, I don't know that I'm a legend, Mrs Granger," Harry mumbled shyly, wringing his hands in his awkwardness, which wasn't helped by the reverent way that Hermione was beaming at him from her mother's side as she made the introductions. "But I am him ... I mean, he's me ... Harry Potter, you know ... that's who I am ... my name is Harry. Nice to meet you."

Hermione's grin become more brilliant still at Harry's stumbling coyness. He was nervous, to be talking to her parents, and Hermione wondered at the reasons behind that for a moment, until her father took up the reigns of conversation again.

"So, Harry, you're one of these magicians, are you?" David Granger asked of him. "Just like our Hermione, here?"

"Daddy! Harry isn't a _magician_!" Hermione cried, rolling her eyes loftily. "He's a _wizard_ ... and I am a witch. I've explained this to you a dozen times!"

"And yet I still see little difference between the two," David returned.

Hermione let out a haughty little huff in her father's direction. "Alright, Dad, I'll tell you this one more time. A magician performs tricks with playing cards and pulls rabbits from hats at children's parties ... whereas _Harry_ could whip up Potions to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in _death_ if he wanted to ... and cast spells to create fire and make things fly ... and _actually_ fly himself, if he had his racing broom with him ... and, oh yes, he can talk to dragons and giant serpents, too ... there's a teeny, _tiny_ little difference there. I don't know if you've spotted it!"

Hermione shot her father a cheeky little grin, which he returned with interest. Harry felt something ignite in his chest at the sight, to join with his flaming cheeks, which were burning hotly following Hermione's exaltation of his talents.

For there, standing right in front of him, was the new version of _pretty Hermione_ again, extolling his virtues to her father. She looked exactly as Harry remembered her from that day in Oxford, apart from a cute, vibrant glow in her eyes as she spoke about him. That was new, and Harry daren't think that the two were related. That was dangerous territory, as if flirting with the forbidden. But it seemed that this doppelganger had followed them from the other world and was here to stay, perhaps merely to torment Harry further with this bout of insanity he was currently suffering under.

"Right, I'm going to leave you all to get acquainted," Hermione suddenly chirped, her voice bright and breezy.

"What ... wait! Where are you going?" Harry yelped, a little frantic at Hermione leaving him to face this interrogation alone.

"I have to change and have a shower because, quite frankly, I stink," Hermione told him, her cheeks colouring at the confession. "I wont be long. Look after Pap for me, will you?"

And with that, she span on her heel and hurried away without another word. What she didn't see, in her haste to get her fragrant self away from Harry, was the loaded look that her parents shared, as their daughter placed Papageno's care into the hands of this unusual boy from another world, knowing full well the implications of such a gesture, even if the two young people were as yet oblivious of how easily and comfortably they did it and what the whole thing likely meant about them.

For a few pregnant moments, nobody spoke. Harry wildly wondered if the onus was on _him_ to create conversation, and how he was supposed to do that, because he wasn't much practiced at such things. He didn't possess the happy talent that some boys did of initiating conversation with strangers.

Luckily, Sirius could talk for England.

"Right then, let's get the big introductions out of the way, shall we?" Sirius barked jovially. "David and Catherine Granger ... meet Lily and James Potter, and their very newborn daughter, Seren."

"Ooh, Seren is a Welsh name!" Catherine cried gleefully. "It means ..."

"Star!" Lily beamed back. "How extraordinary that it is the same here as it is for us! Lyra told us that there are a lot of differences here, almost like older versions of things we use back home. I suppose I didn't expect to find many similarities."

"Really? What sort of things did she mention?" Catherine queried in fascination, as she and Lily sat close to huddle in conversation, each recognising the reflection of insatiable academic curiosity in the other.

"Well, we call our closest European neighbours the _French_ , but I understand they are known as _Franks_ here, which they were called in our world many hundreds of years in the past," Lily explained. "Lyra also once had a friend who came from the _country_ of Texas, which is just part of a larger group of united states in our world, and there are parts of your world, that Lyra once travelled to in one of her adventures, that we recognise from names that fell out of use for us some time ago.

"But to find Welsh pretty much the same is quite incredible."

"It may be on account of the age of the language and culture," Catherine suggested. "It is very old, perhaps one of the oldest surviving in this part of the world. The ways of my people are seen as quaint and backwards by some, even dangerous to The Magisterium and The Church, and we are much scorned to this day. Hence why I had to alter my name in order to blend in, once we moved to central Brytain ... my true name in Welsh is _Catrin_ , but it was easier to Anglicise it than to to draw contempt down upon us by keeping it in the native form."

"I see bigotry is the same across worlds too, then," Lily scowled.

"How old is your baby?" Catherine swooned.

"Barely three months," Lily beamed. "Would you like to hold her? She's just been changed, so she's nice and fresh."

"May I? Oh ... she's _beautiful_!" Catherine swooned as she took the sleeping infant.

"Is it just Hermione for you?" Lily asked. "Never thought of having any more?"

Catherine looked up sadly. "We did want more, but when I gave birth to Hermione there were ... complications. Dust, it seems, decided that one baby was enough for us. We are just lucky that it gave us the perfect one at our first try."

"Oh, Catherine ... I'm so sorry!" Lily whispered in guilty horror. "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," Catherine smiled, brightly. "We have Hermione, our angel of a girl ... there is nothing to be regretful about as far as we are concerned."

"Well, she's the best friend I could ever have asked for, if that counts for anything," Harry piped up suddenly. He felt it was the sort of truth he ought to offer, to cut through the awkward atmosphere that threatened the room. "She's kind and brave and funny ... she's the best, really."

"Funny?" David quirked. "Hermione? Are you sure you've got the right girl? The only time she ever tells jokes is when she reads them from Christmas Crackers! And I swear I only hear her laugh when she's got wind!"

"Oh, hush you," Catherine dismissed with a grin. "You ignore him, Harry. He's just teasing ... or at least, he had better be!"

David guffawed out a laugh as Catherine narrowed her eyes warningly at her husband, using an expression so much like one of Hermione's that Harry had to do a double take.

"So, Hermione and Lyra are going to visit the Bears tomorrow," Catherine went on. "Would you like to see them, Harry?"

"Oh yes, very much!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I saw their king, Iorek, when he came into our world last year ... when he was trying to find a cure for your Petrification. But I never spoke to him or anything."

Harry swallowed nervously, waiting for the reaction from his mentioning the attack on the Grangers by the Basilisk. He was keen to know if, or how much, they might hold him ultimately responsible for it.

Lily, seeing her son's agitation, stepped in quickly. "I'm glad to see that the Mandrake Restorative Draught worked. It has been many years since I brewed that particular potion, but I am glad to see it worked for you."

"You brewed it?" David asked, his tone grateful. "How fortunate! I was hoping that I might get to thank the one responsible, but I couldn't imagine how I'd achieve it. What a stroke of fortune this is!"

"Yes, I quite agree," Catherine smiled. "Thank you, Lily."

"Don't mention it," Lily grinned back. "I was better at Charms during my schooldays, but I was always a proficient Potion Brewer, too. Have you had any side effects with it?"

"Our dæmons _..._ do you know what dæmons are? Oh, great! ... well, they have been acting slightly peculiar, but I cant see how that might be connected to the medicine," David replied.

"How have they been acting?" James asked, crossing the room to join the others. "Obviously, we cant claim to know very much about dæmons, being without them as we are, but we have been getting used to having Marici around with Harry ... and we looked after Papageno for a spell last year when Hermione was ..."

"Not feeling herself," Lily cut in quickly, not sure how much the Grangers knew of the story, and not wanting to land Hermione in hot water for being suspended from school.

Catherine cocked a curious eyebrow at Harry. "Pap stayed with you? Does he do that a lot?"

"No, that was the only time," Harry blushed. "But he does come to me quite a bit."

"And have you ... _touched him_?" Catherine asked in a near-whisper.

Harry coloured hotly. He knew where this was going and braced himself for the reaction.

"Yes ... yes I have," Harry muttered.

He waited for the shocked gasps, which were far more pointed that his best preparation could have readied him for, to die down before continuing. He was desperately keen to explain his innocence ... as though apologising for being caught blindly walking in on Hermione in the bath or something.

"I didn't _mean_ to," he moaned lowly. "I didn't know, see. When I first met Hermione we were just on the train to school. Pap was with her, and I just thought he was her big, fluffy, _normal_ cat. So I smoothed him without knowing what I was really doing ... or what it really meant."

"And what about after you knew?" David asked, his voice flirting with being accusatory. "Have you touched him since?"

Harry was almost too scared to answer. He bit his lip nervously, never more aware of how much he shouldn't be touching Hermione's dæmon than now, when her outraged parents were about to scold him for it. He might have kissed Hermione full on the mouth right in front of them and it wouldn't be this bad. The guilt rang nosily in his ears, though the room was still, as if it were holding its breath.

And in the droning silence, Papageno stood up from where he was sat near Marici and moved towards Harry. His bottle-brush tail was standing straight up in the air, all pointy and angry and his squashed face was fixed in firm pout. He reached Harry and then, in an act of sheer defiance, he stepped right into his lap, before padding around a moment and settling into a curled position, with his eyes fixed mutinously on Catherine and David, almost as if he were daring them to challenge the relationship that had developed between Harry and their daughter's feisty dæmon.

But their daughter was pretty feisty, too.

The door to the Communal Lounge suddenly hissed open and Hermione was stood there, looking cross and confused with her hair still wet and dripping onto the tiles.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "My heart rate is going a mile a minute, as if I should be mad at something. What's ... _oh!"_

Hermione's eyes went wide as she drank in the situation, her eyes flipping from her frowning parents to her resolute dæmon, and the fierce stare he had fixed on them, a stare potent enough for both he and Harry, which was a good thing as Harry's own eyes were turned down reticently to the floor.

"What's going on?" Hermione repeated, her anger rising. She marched around to stand directly in front of her parents. "What have you being saying, Mum? Dad? What have you said to Harry? Have you been giving him a hard time ... about _this_?"

Hermione span on her heel and waved animatedly at Harry and Papageno, then turned to glower at her parents again. Harry felt awful ... this meeting had been going so well, he didn't want to ruin it like this.

"Hermione ..." Harry began quietly. "They are right ... I shouldn't touch Pap, not now that I know what it means."

"And do you?" Catherine asked, sounding gentle and surprised. "Do you really know what it means?"

"I know how personal it is," Harry mumbled. "I feel it now with _my_ dæmon. I wont even let Mum and Dad touch her ... so I know how intimate it is ... I know that much at least."

"Then why still do it with Papageno?" Catherine pressed on, stilling her husband with a sharp look.

"I don't know," Harry muttered shyly. "I ... I suppose I just _like_ it. It makes me feel close to them, in ways that I cant describe, really. Certainly in ways I don't feel with my other friends. It's different ... all warm and cosy and nice ... and it makes _me_ feel special, that Hermione allows me to share it with her, with _them_. It's because of that, I think."

Hermione snapped her head around to look at him, such bright and incomprehensible affection in her face that Harry didn't know what to do with it, apart from look at the floor again. There was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt a part of his insides come to life, then squirm and wriggle as if trying to escape under the glow of it.

"And what about you, Hermione?" David asked. "How do you feel about it?"

The question was loaded, and Harry was with David in his intent. To an outsider, there was every chance that this could look forced, that Harry was _violating_ Hermione without consciously knowing that he was doing it. Harry swallowed painfully as he considered that possibility, resolving to disengage Papageno from his thighs if Hermione even _hinted_ at any sort of discomfort.

As if reading Harry's mind, Papageno dug his claws in as deep as he dared without causing pain, but just enough so that Harry would know exactly that he meant to do it. Hermione felt the entire exchange within her own heart and mind and simply smiled at them both, relaxing Harry in an instant.

"I love that Harry and Pap get on so well," Hermione grinned. "I think Pap likes it even more than that ... and I sometimes think he'd prefer to spend time with Harry than with me. But I know he'd be in the safest hands if he did, so I don't mind that, either."

David and Catherine looked at Harry inscrutably a second, then at each other ... and then, in a moment that Harry felt come and go in a flash, they agreed on something, though what that might be Harry had no more idea than the fish swimming around in the big tank near the window.

But Hermione seemed to have a slightly better idea about things. She planted one hand on her hip and turned back to her parents.

"Satisfied?" she asked, firmly.

"Yes, very satisfied," Catherine replied, looking at Harry with a far warmer expression than any she'd afforded him so far.

"Dad?" Hermione demanded.

"Alright, yes ... for now," David responded, his tone lighter and slightly teasing. He flicked Harry a brief look, but it was utterly unreadable and Harry was content with that ... it was better than Hermione's father being cross with him.

"Good, because I've shared my best friend with you for long enough, so now we're going to have some fun," Hermione announced. "I missed his birthday, so I have a lot of making up to do."

"What did you have in mind?" Harry grinned, looking up in hope.

"We'll start at the bottom of the Station and work our way up," Hermione told him, brightly. "There's just _loads_ of amazing stuff to see ... and it'll probably take so long that we wont make it up to the Observatory on the top floor till it gets dark ... but that's a good thing, because it's best to see the Northern Lights like that. Oh, Harry ... I do hope it's a clear night tonight, because I'd just love you to see the Aurora at its best! All the greens and reds and golds ... I'm sure you'll just love it!"

* * *

That night, Harry got lucky with Hermione.

The Arctic skies were favourable to them, staying cloudless and clear as they reached the large dome of the Observatory. The operator kindly opened the sphere-shaped hood and exposed the vastness of the Arctic night to them. Hermione made Harry lie down on the floor and close his eyes, before lying down herself with the tops of their heads almost touching, as she stretched away from him. When the hood was fully retracted, she finally spoke.

"Open your eyes, Harry!" Hermione whispered, reverently.

So he did ... and thought he might have been looking at Heaven itself.

For the cosmic beauty of the Arctic sky took his breath away. Billions of stars, their light unfettered by the glare of civilisation and the mists of pollution, shone brilliantly, as far as his eyes could see. It was utterly stunning. Harry felt he could have looked at it forever and been happier for it.

But then there was something else. It started like a cloud at first, distant and wispy and ephemeral. And then it became more pronounced, not like it was getting closer, but more as if it were getting _bigger_ ... almost as if it were growing like a living, breathing thing. The colours were difficult to make out, dull pinks and shadowy greens. Harry felt a tinge of disappointment at it. He couldn't help it.

Hermione seemed to sense that from him. She lifted her hand over her head to clutch at his shoulder. "Wait ... wait ... wait for it ... here it comes ...!"

Harry looked up, his own anticipation stoked by Hermione's eager excitement. Quite _what_ he was waiting for he didn't know, but he kept his eyes pinned on those folds of light just the same.

And then he saw it.

Almost as if someone had fired a flare into the sky, the swirls of red and green were suddenly infused with gold. It penetrated the other folds of light, dancing between the curtains and igniting the dull colours to vivid hues of crimson and sparkling emerald. Harry gasped as he watched Nature's greatest light show taking place above his head ... and in his joy his hand flew to Hermione's on reflex, squeezing it tight.

"Oh, _Hermione_!" Harry breathed. "It's _beautiful_!"

"I told you you'd like it!" Hermione hushed back, keeping her voice low as though she'd offend Nature itself if she spoke any louder. "Do you see all that gold, Harry? Do you see it? Well, _that's_ Dust, Harry! That's what it looks like and what it does ... it brings light to everything. It illuminates it."

"Or enlightens it, you could say," Harry replied, as much to himself as to her. A new understanding of what he'd been told on High Brasil was blooming in his mind. He swallowed a dozen new questions that had been born in his brain about it, about the destiny he shared with Hermione. They would all have to wait, because he had just thought of something even more important that he'd forgotten he wanted to do.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry whispered, before his courage faltered.

"For what?" she queried.

"For sharing this with me," Harry replied. "I'm so lucky, and so glad, that you did. And I don't just mean the Northern Lights, but everything. For sharing your life and your dæmon, your world and your destiny with me. There's no-one else I'd be more glad to share those things with. I just wanted you to know that."

"I know, and I ... me too, Harry ... me too."

Then she squeezed his hand tightly. Neither knew it, but both of them smiled, and closed their eyes at the touch.

* * *

The Northern Lights were just the first of many incredible sights to befall Harry over the next week. A few days after his arrival and he set off with Lyra, Hermione and Sirius as they took the short trek to nearby Svalbard, home of Iorek Brynison and his Armoured Bears. Ice Station Zebra had, in part, been set up nearby in order to monitor the bears as they returned to their ancestral home, as the ice there was completely melted at the start Lord Asriel's Great War, which took place almost twenty-five years ago now.

Harry was keen to hear all about that, so Lyra told him as much of the story as she could remember, with Hermione filling in the blanks, as she had memorised all the books and papers Lyra had ever written about it. All in all, it was a pleasant way to spend the handful of hours it took to reach Svalbard in their dog-pulled sled.

Then there was Iorek and the bears themselves, which were bigger and more ferocious than Harry could have guessed at. He remembered seeing Iorek at Hogwarts, but he rather felt he was too shocked by seeing a huge polar bear in thickset armour wandering around near the Charms classrooms to really take in his physical dimensions.

So he did now ... and cowered away in his insignificance.

For Iorek Byrnison was _huge_. His paws, Harry knew, could crush his skull to dust in the work of barely a moment. Even Marici, who was usually big and brave, curled down at Harry's feet as he was introduced to the bear-king, planting her head between her own paws and mewling pathetically. It was only when Papageno came up and licked snow from her drooping eyes ... which was an act that made both Harry and Hermione suddenly so shy around each other that they couldn't speak for fully ten minutes ... that the great lioness felt brave enough to move again.

Iorek was big, but his son was even more massive. Whereas Iorek was ageing and gnarled now, Pfetr Iorekson was in his prime. His coat was gleaming and glossy, his jowl set and powerful and his claws sharp enough to rip sheet metal as though it were made of cotton. But only with age came wisdom, and Iorek had that in spades. Though what he had to say was somewhat disquieting.

"When do you leave the North, Lyra Silvertongue?" the great bear asked, his voice a rumble so deep that Harry was sure it made his bones vibrate under his skin.

"A couple of days, three at most," Lyra replied. They were walking to the water's edge, where Pfetr was busy skinning a seal he'd just caught in his powerful teeth.

"Make it two ... one, if you can," Iorek advised darkly. "Things are afoot in the North ... things that I do not like at all."

"Things? What things?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Dark things, dangerous ones," Iorek returned, lowly. "Things we bears feel in the swell of the tide and the taste of the air. Something is coming, something we must all be wary of. It feels like before, with Asriel. The sky may not be torn open this time, but the forces which caused it are moving again.

"And when they come, Lyra, you must be ready for war."

"Me? What do I have to do with it?" Lyra asked, hotly.

"The Forces of Light chose you as their champion once before, they will do so again," Iorek told her simply. "You must be ready ... you must protect your _cub_."

Iorek looked unblinkingly at Hermione, who blushed under his intense gaze. "Me? Am I in danger?"

"We may all be," Iorek replied bluntly. "But you are with the best people for you. Stick close to them, child, for that is where you will be safest. Your companion is a boy touched by lightening ... and the Gods of Thunder will side with him in what is to come."

Iorek stopped then and stepped close to Harry, who froze in his massive presence. Iorek raised his huge paw and Harry cowered back, as if bracing to be clobbered ... but Iorek merely pushed back his fringe with the sort of delicacy Harry wouldn't have thought a great bear capable of.

"This mark is a blessing," Iorek told him, looking closely at the scar on Harry's forehead that his mother's early rune rituals with him had caused. "Lightening has touched you, boy, and it will answer your call ... when you learn how to ask for it."

 _"Great!"_ Harry thought, snarkily. " _First dragon, then Parseltongue ... now I have to learn to speak_ _Lightening, too!_ " ... though he was much too intimidated by Iorek to say any of this out loud.

"So, these Dark forces ... are they already _in_ the North?" Sirius went on.

"If they are not, they very soon will be," Iorek replied. "You must be cautious, Sirius Black. You are a human who has straddled more than one world, and that makes you uniquely suited to fighting this enemy ... and more of a threat to them as a result."

"And so they will be coming for me," Sirius growled. "Well, let them come. I'll be ready."

Sirius was so fierce in his determination that it stirred excitement in Harry's chest. This was the man from the stories, the one who had duelled Lord Voldemort to a stalemate, and eventually resorted to tackling him bodily and driving him through a portal to another world. Harry had never seen this side of Sirius so viscerally before him ... and it wiped out any fear Harry might have felt listening to Iorek's warnings.

Even so, it didn't make for the most settled of times for Harry. His dreams became plagued with dark omens and portents so vivid that Harry suffered fitful sleep, often not sure if he was wakened or sleeping when he saw them. He put it down to sleeping in a new and unfamiliar place, one whose sounds and smells were alien and strange and disturbing his established patterns.

Several times Harry woke from his dreams and swore that he saw the shadows of the room he shared with Seren come to life. He felt utterly terrified for his baby sister, certain that she was surrounded by these dark masses, that took the vague form of vicious dogs or great wolves, ones which loomed over her cot and threatened to steal away with her.

Harry even chased one off once, followed it right into the corridor and moved with the shifting light, driven on to catch it when he was sure he saw it trap Papageno in a storeroom, only for Harry to arrive there out of breath and find the whole place empty. He decided he must have dreamt the whole thing and returned to his room, but determined to keep a vigil over Seren anyway until they left this place. But he left the light on for it.

Because, for the first time in nearly three years, Harry felt afraid of the dark ... for there were shadows everywhere there. Nowhere was safe. So Harry pulled his quilt to him, drifted to Seren's cot and curled up next to it, hitching his knees into his chest to wait for the morning ... and Hermione ... his two most powerful weapons against the encroaching darkness.

* * *

 _ ** **Enjoying this story? Check out some of the**** _ _****others in my portfolio! Drop me a comment if you're enjoying any of my tales, or join the HMS Harmony Discord Server to chat with me and other like-minded Harmony shippers about all things Harry & Hermione! Thanks for reading and stay safe in these wacky times!** ** _


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